


An Entirely Uneventful Trip

by Heimeldat



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon Compliant, Friendship, Gen, Hurt Anakin Skywalker, Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, Hurt/Comfort, I hope it's not awful, My First Work in This Fandom, Post-Star Wars: Attack of the Clones, Things never go to plan, lots of banter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:00:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28054293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heimeldat/pseuds/Heimeldat
Summary: In the early days of the Clone Wars, the Jedi still pursue ordinary missions between battles. Obi-Wan and Anakin travel to a minor planet that has requested Jedi mediation in the feuds between its city-lords. They anticipate a relatively easy mission, but as usual, nothing goes according to plan.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 6
Kudos: 42





	1. Chapter One

"You're clear to launch, General."

"Thank you, Commander," said Obi-Wan. "We'll rendezvous—" He broke off as Anakin snatched the headset and darted past Obi-Wan into the pilot's seat. "Anakin—"

"I thought you hated flying, Master," said Anakin, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

"I hate your flying." Anakin was already strapping himself into the pilot's seat, so Obi-Wan moved quickly to the co-pilot's position before Anakin could do anything to knock him off his feet.

"I'm the best pilot in the Order," said Anakin, flicking switches and running far too quickly through the startup sequence..

"That depends entirely on your definition of 'best,' my young apprentice," Obi-Wan retorted dryly.

"Let's see — fastest, most agile, most experienced for my age—" Anakin counted off the items on his fingers. The glint of his metallic hand still caught Obi-Wan off guard every time he noticed it.

"Most reckless," Obi-Wan added in the same bantering tone, but Anakin followed his glance toward the mechanical hand, and the boy's expression changed in an instant from amused to impassive. Blast. Obi-Wan felt the mood darkening between them and quickly added, "Oh, and let's not forget most humble."

Anakin's wry grin flashed across his face again. "Of course, Master." He slammed the throttle forward, and the ship launched with enough force to press Obi-Wan back in his seat. An instant later Anakin executed a sharp flip, darting up and around the side of the cruiser with a scream of engines. Obi-Wan winced at the sound. This vessel was not built for precision maneuvers.

Before he could do more than open his mouth to object, Anakin levelled out as he cleared the cruiser's active space. Obi-Wan carefully loosened his grip on the armrests before Anakin could notice. "The coordinates—"

"Already laid in." Anakin engaged the hyperdrive, and the stars streaked suddenly into the blue-violet swirls of hyperspace. Anakin glanced over. "What's so important about these Kyzari, anyway?"

"All peoples are important, Anakin."

"Yes, Master, but what's important enough about the Kyzari to send us to talk to them? We have better things to do than stop some petty squabble between tribes."

"Do we?"

Anakin have him an incredulous stare. "Dooku's still out there, Master! He's attacking worlds right now."

"Yes," agreed Obi-Wan. He leaned back in his seat, wearing his most placid expression and deliberately radiating calm in hopes of infecting Anakin with some measure of peace. After all these years, he still struggled with finding the right way to convey patience and serenity to his apprentice. He knew Anakin understood the philosophies, but that wasn't enough. "Three systems are currently under attack by the Separatists," Obi-Wan said. "And Republic forces have been dispatched to each of them. Our divisions aren't needed at the moment, and we still have other duties."

"But shouldn't the less important duties wait, Master? I thought the whole point of this army was to stop the Separatists with overwhelming force. Crush them before they can do any more harm!" Anakin's metal hand clenched against his leg. "Why give us these troops, why make you a General, if we're not going to hunt down Count Dooku?"

"We will," said Obi-Wan calmly, but unease stirred deep in his chest at Anakin's words. The boy wasn't the only one thinking that way. All across the galaxy, loyal systems rejoiced that the Jedi and their army had been sent to crush the Separatists. A few months ago, the idea of Jedi leading troops would have been laughable. And now here he was, General Kenobi. The title sat heavily on his shoulders.

"We will find Count Dooku," Obi-Wan said, pushing aside his worries for the time being. "And we will bring him to justice. But not today." He turned to meet his Padawan's stormy eyes. "Clear your mind, Anakin. Let go of past and future; focus on the present task."

"Yes, Master." Anakin drew a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. His face relaxed, but his mechanical hand remained clenched in his lap. Obi-Wan felt a shiver of presentiment, a fleeting awareness of what that skeletal metal hand presaged. The very first battle of this war had left Anakin maimed and struggling with anger; how much worse might the war do to him, to both of them, before the end?

Obi-Wan looked away, toward the chaotic yet peaceful swirls of hyperspace. "In answer to your first question, Anakin, the Kyzari hold a hyperspace nexus that may become unexpectedly important in coming months. Until now, it's been only a minor trade route, but given the direction our strategists expect the Separatists to move, we may be able to steal a move on Dooku by claiming Kyzar."

Anakin nodded, and his expression cleared further. It bothered Obi-Wan that keeping the peace was no longer enough to satisfy Anakin; he only accepted the importance of the mission now that he knew it would contribute to the war effort. Obi-Wan opened his mouth to call Anakin's attention to that problematic way of thinking, then stopped himself. Now wasn't the right moment. "You'll like the Kyzari," he said instead. "They're honest, forthright, prone to solving problems with their fists — or, failing that, with spears."

Anakin raised an eyebrow. "Sounds a bit primitive for my tastes."

"Traditional would be a better term. They're quite capable of using hyperdrives and blasters, but they like the old ways. This is the first time they've called for Jedi mediation, and they haven't been particularly open about their traditions with outsiders. I'm curious to learn more."

"I can't wait," said Anakin sarcastically.


	2. Chapter Two

Their ship dropped out of hyperspace with the almost-audible snap and twang of twisting dimensions. Anakin yawned, covering his mouth with his left hand as his right settled lightly onto the steering yoke. The still-unexpected glint of metal caught the corner of Obi-Wan's eye, but he didn't turn his head toward Anakin. The boy seemed to forget about the prosthetic unless someone else called attention to it, and Obi-Wan ought to do likewise. For all his wise words about letting go of the past, it seemed he was having his own difficulties moving past their recent battle with Count Dooku.

"They've picked up our beacon and acknowledged us, Master," said Anakin, pulling Obi-Wan out of his uncomfortable thoughts. "Landing coordinates coming in now." He flung the steering yoke casually to the side, sending them plummeting through the atmosphere at a breakneck speed.

Obi-Wan gritted his teeth, half-expecting them to overshoot their landing platform, but as usual, Anakin managed to slow in plenty of time and maneuvered them to a perfect touchdown. Obi-Wan released his grip on the armrest again and levered himself to his feet with a sigh of relief. It hadn't been a long hyperspace jump, but the co-pilot's seat wasn't very comfortable.

"Let me do the talking at first," Obi-Wan cautioned as Anakin hit the button to lower the exit ramp. A chilly breeze rushed inside. "They may be touchy, and I don't want any misunderstandings."

"Yes, Master," Anakin said with a roll of his eyes. He slung his outer robe over his shoulders and followed Obi-Wan down the ramp into the dry, cold air..

A tall, slender figure stepped forward to meet them. He was humanoid, but with glittering faceted eyes, deep violet skin, and a beard of fleshy tendrils that fluttered and moved as if tasting the air. "Welcome, Jedi," he said in a lilting voice. "I am Nyaka, who requested your coming."

"It's an honor to meet you in person, Nyaka," Obi-Wan said. "I'm Master Kenobi; this is my Padawan, Anakin Skywalker."

"An honor," said Nyaka. "But this is not the place for conversation. This is the way which I shall lead." He gestured with a graceful six-fingered hand.

They followed their host down a long curving ramp. Dozens of landing platforms stood around them on stilts, but there was no sign of habitation until the ramp dropped below the level of the platforms: down here, hundreds of low-roofed buildings clustered together in neighborhoods or sprawled out along meandering side roads. "Your city is more beautiful than I realized from holos," Obi-Wan added as he took in the vista of gables and rooftops glittering in a dozen crystalline hues.

"There have been many generations who contributed to its building," said Nyaka proudly. "But I hope this will be the generation which outshines them all."

"I have no doubt it will be so," Obi-Wan agreed with a smile.

Nyaka gave another sweep of his hand, gesturing them toward an open-topped landspeeder that stood waiting at the bottom of the ramp. From the slightly skeptical look on Anakin's face, Obi-Wan guessed it wasn't exactly cutting-edge technology. Still, it looked to be in good repair, and Obi-Wan stepped up into the rear passenger seats without any hesitation. Anakin slid in beside him, and Nyaka took the bench facing them. He nodded to the driver, and the speeder set off through the streets at a moderate speed. Anakin looked impatient, but Obi-Wan appreciated the chance to look at the city more closely. At first glance, the glittering colors of the buildings and the willowy build of their occupants gave the place an enchanted look. But the structures were built low and strong, with heavy doors, and most of the Kyzari wore traditional leather and fur vests over their more modern tunics.

"This is the place where we will speak," said Nyaka as the speeder slowed in front of a larger structure. It was as low as the rest of the city, only two stories tall, but it sprawled out in a tangle of wings and additions, some newer than others. It wasn't hard to identify the original building, a long hall of age-darkened stone with massive iron doors facing on to the street. Several guards stood outside, holding slender spears with leaf-shaped tips. They eyed the Jedi cautiously, but at a word from Nyaka, they stepped aside and opened a small postern set into the larger iron door.

"Friendly-looking place," Anakin muttered, glancing up at the massive stone lintel looming overhead as they passed through the gate.

"A relic from an age of fortresses," Obi-Wan murmured back.

Inside, more guards gestured them to pass on through a high, echoing atrium. "There are four city-lords who meet today," Nyaka said as he led them to another large door, this one made of wood and carved with stylized images of animals, trees, and Kyzari hunters. "Chief among them is Hyaz, who is my father."

The door swung wide to reveal a massive stone-walled room which had probably been a feast hall in days gone by, but now it seemed to serve as a conference room, with a long central table covered with holo-displays and flimsies. Four tall men stood around the table; they all looked up sharply at the interruption, and the one at the head of the table said something in the Kyzari language.

Nyaka replied in Basic. "These are visitors who are Jedi knights, lord-father. They have come to speak with us about the Tyemi who plague us."

Obi-Wan recognized that name; as usual, he'd done some research before setting out on the mission. The Tyemi were the largest rival clan, the only real force standing in the way of peace. "We have come in reply to your call for mediation, City-lord Hyaz," Obi-Wan said, stepping forward and bowing deeply. "Whatever we may do to aid—"

"Jyedi ny kyanti!" Hyaz snapped. Anger boiled up from him as he stepped away from the table.

"What's going on?" muttered Anakin. His hand moved toward his lightsaber, but Obi-Wan stopped him.

"My father is less open to this idea than expected," Nyaka said quietly. He moved forward and held up a hand, speaking quickly in Kyzari.

"Great," said Anakin. "He didn't tell anyone he was calling us?"

"Apparently not," Obi-Wan murmured. "But since we're here, I don't intend to waste the trip." He stepped up beside Nyaka again and waited for a lull in the conversation before saying, "City-lord Hyaz—"

"Silence!" snarled the city-lord, turning his flashing compound eyes toward the Jedi. "Are you Kyzari? Have you drunk the blood of the kymar who makes children into hunters? Have you walked the path of Tyzarith who proves you worthy of speaking in the council? Then let your tongue stop moving among those who understand."

A flash of annoyance ran through Obi-Wan at the man's sneering tone, but he quickly suppressed it. He bowed again. "I understand that your ways are not like ours, but—"

"But we came here to help!" Anakin burst out, striding forward to join them with his arms crossed. "We have our own war, City-lord, but we still came here to help you put an end to yours. Maybe we haven't killed your kymar or whatever, but we are hunters, warriors, and—"

Anakin bit off any further words with a visible effort as Obi-Wan held up a hand to stop him. But his outburst seemed to have done more good than harm; City-lord Hyaz was still frowning, but he was also listening. Obi-Wan held back a smile. Hadn't he just told Anakin a few hours ago that these people respected honesty and force? And yet here he was, falling into his usual soft politic way of speaking. This time, it seemed, he could take a lesson from Anakin's impatience.

"War is sweeping the galaxy," Obi-Wan said, pitching his voice to carry through the hall and reach the ears of the other city-lords who remained beside the conference table. "The fight will reach you soon, whether you want to take part or not. The Separatists don't care if you prefer neutrality; they will descend on your world and conquer your people if you don't stand united against them."

"So you wish our feuds to end," said Hyaz suspiciously. "And what use is this to you, knight of the Republic?"

Obi-Wan spread his hands. "Our duty is to help wherever we're needed. Your son called for aid, and we came."

Hyaz narrowed his eyes. "All beings serve their own ends," he rumbled deep in his throat. "Help comes only from those who wish something in return."

"I can assure you, City-lord—"

"The hyperlanes," Anakin cut in. "The Separatists want your trade route, and we plan to keep it away from them."

"Ah," said Hyaz, nodding his head. "This is a desire which makes sense to me." He eyed Obi-Wan. "Those who speak clearly instead of bowing and posturing will earn more favor from any who hold true power, Knight."

Ah, if only that were true throughout the galaxy. Obi-Wan smiled wryly. "Let's speak clearly, then, City-lord. We don't want your world falling to the Separatists. You have the best chance of standing against them — perhaps even warning them away and persuading them to try for a different hyperlane — if you stand united. Therefore, we don't intend to leave this world until we've put an end to the feud between your coalition—" He gestured toward the other city-lords— "and the Tyemi tribes."

Hyaz eyed them for a moment longer, then nodded again, slowly. "This is an idea which we will discuss," he said. "The Tyemi are violent fools who are not known to listen to reason, but we hold a truce at present. Perhaps your coming is the change which will force them to discuss peace at last. The atrium is the place where you shall await our decision."

Obi-Wan bowed; Anakin did likewise, a bit belatedly, and they turned back toward the atrium with Nyaka. "Why didn't you tell us?" Anakin demanded as soon as the heavy wooden doors shut behind them. "You called us here to mediate and didn't think to tell us that you were the only one who wanted us here?"

Nyaka's beard-like tendrils curled in on themselves, perhaps in embarrassment or anxiety. "I see now that this was a decision which caused more trouble than ease," he said in a low voice. "But if you knew our desire for mediation was not unanimous, what I feared was that you might not come."

"A reasonable concern," Obi-Wan admitted as he settled on a stone bench at the side of the atrium. "Our duty requires us to respond to calls for aid coming from governmental bodies or monarchs, but not from private individuals. "But we're here now, and your father seems amenable to mediation, so there's no harm done." He folded his hands into the sleeves of his robe. "Now, while we wait for the council's decision, why don't you tell us more about these Tyemi tribes?"


	3. Chapter Three

Obi-Wan listened carefully to Nyaka's descriptions of the feud, but a corner of his mind remained focused on Anakin. The boy wasn't paying attention; instead, he paced back and forth across the width of the atrium with his hands clasped behind him and his brow furrowed. The Force roiled around him, stirred up with currents of impatience and — was that anxiety?

Usually, Obi-Wan was quick to speak of how fear could lead to darkness, but in Anakin's case, perhaps a bit of fear would do him good. Ever since the boy accepted that he was truly free from slavery, he had plunged himself into this new life with abandon. He had always been so self-assured, so reckless, so — cocky. He still seemed the same on the surface, but Obi-Wan dared to hope that he sensed a new undercurrent of caution. Perhaps the boy's painful lesson at Dooku's hands had finally driven home the need for wariness and advance planning.

Or perhaps that was too much to hope for, Obi-Wan thought dryly as Anakin let out an irritated huff of breath and flung himself down on another bench on the far side of the atrium. "How long is this going to take, Master?" he asked. "How hard can it be for them to realize that Jedi aid is exactly what they need?"

"Aid from outsiders who know nothing of their ways," Obi-Wan pointed out. "It will take as long as it takes."

Anakin rolled his eyes. "I knew you were going to say something like that."

"Did you? Perhaps you're finally learning." Obi-Wan glanced toward the inner doors, then rose as they swung open.

City-lord Hyaz stepped out and gestured them toward the outer door. "Under the open sky is where agreements must be made," he said.

"You've reached a decision, then?" said Anakin, brightening and jumping up from his bench.

"We have." Hyaz motioned for the guards to open the door. They all stepped out into the chilly air; the wind tugged at Obi-Wan's hair and clothing, and he shivered and pulled his robe a bit tighter around his shoulders.

"Our coalition accepts the mediation which the Jedi offer," Hyaz said. "But we cannot guarantee that the Tyemi will listen. You are outsiders who have not earned status or leadership among us, and they are fools who care for nothing but force of arms."

"We understand," said Obi-Wan.

"Then you shall join us in the meeting which occurs this evening. We already intended to meet at the border with the Tyemi leader who accepted the current truce. He is a great warrior whose name is Zyanik. We leave in half a hand." The city-lord nodded curtly, then strode back inside, leaving the Jedi on the front steps.

"Half a hand," said Obi-Wan. "How specific."

Anakin grinned. "It's clear enough to me." He stepped close and reached his arm over Obi-Wan's shoulder, holding out his left hand so that from Obi-Wan's perspective, his thumb seemed to rest on the horizon while the sinking sun hovered an inch or two above his pinky. "This is what happens when you grow up in a place like Coruscant, Master. You forget the simpler ways of doing things."

"So it would appear," said Obi-Wan. He eyed the sun again and tried to recall this planet's rotational period from the research he'd done yesterday. "Perhaps half an hour, then," he decided.

"Enough time for dinner," Anakin said hopefully.

"If we return inside, there is food in the room to which I will lead you," offered Nyaka. "There are servants who wait to provide refreshments to the city-lords."

"Lead the way," said Anakin.

The food was bland but filling. Anakin wolfed down several helpings, but Obi-Wan ate sparingly; he was mindful of the city-lord's cautions about the Tyemi. If the negotiations didn't go smoothly, he didn't want to be weighed down by a full stomach.

Nyaka looked up suddenly. He'd been standing quietly in the doorway, facing out toward the hall, clearly not interested in conversation. Now he gestured to the Jedi. "It's time to leave."

"Will you be coming with us?" Anakin asked as he finished his drink and rose from the table.

Nyaka shook his head. "This truce is an agreement which my father leads. It is in one of his speeders that you will travel."

"At least we won't be riding some sort of local mount," Anakin muttered. He understood vehicles like nobody Obi-Wan had ever met, but he couldn't seem to get the knack of connecting with animals.

Outside, a large landspeeder waited for them. It had an unusual design, with benches running down the sides of the vehicle. Hyaz and one of the other city-lords who had been meeting with him sat on one bench, leaving the other for the Jedi. "Thank you for allowing us to come," Obi-Wan said as he stepped up and settled across from Hyaz. "I promise you won't regret it."

"That is not a promise which any man should make," said Hyaz. "There are none who can see the future perfectly to know what regrets may come."

Obi-Wan inclined his head in acknowledgement. "Wise words, City-lord. I'll promise rather that we will do everything in our power to ensure a favorable outcome for you and your people."

"A better promise," Hyaz said. He pulled on a sort of leather poncho with a deep hood and layers of beaded embroidery around its edges; a primitive-looking garment, perhaps, but it seemed eminently practical to Obi-Wan as the speeder zoomed away and a cold wind rushed over them. The thick leather looked far warmer than his own woven cloak, and the city-lord's heavy hood remained in place while Obi-Wan's lighter hood whipped back to let the wind shriek into his ears. A second speeder fell in beside them, carrying half a dozen armored figures holding spears and blasters.

There was no chance of conversing over the noise of the engines and the wind, so Obi-Wan sat back, sinking into a light meditative state as the speeder shot out through the last rows of buildings and began skimming over fields of low, scrubby grass. Pale stones jutted through the soil here and there, and the farther they went, the more rocky and less fertile the land became.

Beside him, Anakin was a familiar tangle of emotions, powerful but unfocused. The city-lords radiated a mixture of anticipation, uncertainty, and hope. Somewhere far ahead, more lives shone like sparks in the darkness, waiting for the speeder's arrival. Obi-Wan couldn't sense their feelings from this distance, but he guessed they must be the Tyemi delegation gathering at the border.

"There are at least fifteen or twenty of them waiting for us," Obi-Wan shouted. "Is that expected?"

"Some are the soldiers who guard our side of the border," Hyaz shouted back. "Our numbers will be even."

Obi-Wan nodded and settled back into his seat again as the two speeders continued away from the city. Behind them, the sun dropped toward the horizon, and the speeders cast long distorted shadows over the stony ground. The light began darkening from white to gold, though they still had some time before true sunset. Networks of crevices appeared in the ground around them, some no wider than a finger, some large enough for a bantha to fall in and vanish. This could be treacherous ground; it would be all too easy to turn the wrong direction and find the speeders trapped by a fissure too large to cross.

Anakin nudged him and pointed ahead. Tall, spindly watchtowers stood against the dimming sky, and several speeders waited between the structures. Obi-Wan could sense their emotions clearly now: a similar mixture of unease and anticipation to that he'd felt from Hyaz, a slight edge of impatience, and a prickly barrier of wariness from the soldiers and guards.

As the speeders slowed to a halt below one of the watchtowers, one of the Tyemi stood up in his own vehicle, perhaps ten yards away, and shouted something in the Kyzari language. Hyaz stood and replied. The other's voice rose angrily in return.

Anakin frowned across the distance with narrowed eyes. "I have a bad feeling about this, Master."

"Yes," Obi-Wan agreed.

Hyaz glanced down at the humans. "As I warned, discussing any change to the truce is not an idea which pleases them, but Zyanik may be willing to speak to me. We shall see." He beckoned the Jedi to follow, then stepped out of the speeder.

The Tyemi leader shouted again, then strode forward to meet them in the middle of the open space between the speeders. He let out another sharp, angry string of words, gesturing vigorously with his spear. Hyaz replied with equally sharp tones and fierce gestures of his hands.

"What are they saying?" muttered Anakin.

"Debating our presence, I expect."

The second city-lord turned his enormous glittering eyes toward them. "Zyanik does not welcome you which are outsiders," he said in hesitant Basic. "Who have no right here. It is — agreement that breaks."

"Master. . ."

"Patience. Hyaz may be able to bring him around." Obi-Wan watched carefully, waiting for the opportunity to speak.

"Master, I don't think—"

Suddenly Zyanik whipped out a blaster and fired toward the Jedi. Anakin's blade was in his hand an instant before Obi-Wan's, deflecting the bolt of red light into the ground. A heartbeat later, the air was full of the whine of blaster bolts as guards from both sides begin firing. Shouts rang out through the dusk. The nearest guards seized Hyaz and the other city-lord and bundled them into their speeder.

"The other speeder, quickly!" shouted Obi-Wan, already turning toward it. He deflected several shots without looking as he ran back across the open ground and leapt into the speeder with Anakin close behind. Two more guards sprang aboard, and the driver slammed the throttle forward, sending the vehicle screeching away across the uneven ground with a Tyemi speeder giving chase.

Obi-Wan stood on one of the benches, balancing precariously against the wind, and deflected one blaster shot after another. Beside him, Anakin stood on the other bench deflecting anything he missed. Behind him, the two guards scrambled up and began returning fire, shooting between the Jedi.

"Master! That one has a detonation launcher!"

"What?" Why would they bring a weapon like that to the peace talks, unless they'd planned all along to destroy Hyaz and his speeders? "Try to—"

Too late. Obi-Wan saw the distinctive burst of flame as the launcher fired. He barely saw the projectile arcing toward them in the twilight, but he reached toward it anyway, gripping it with the Force and turning it aside — and at the same instant he felt Anakin reach in the other direction and use the Force to wrench over the speeder's steering yoke. The vehicle swerved at the same moment as the missile, bringing it right back into the line of fire.

"Anakin!"

Before he finished the word, Anakin saw the danger and swept his hand back the other way. The steering yoke jerked in the other direction and sent the speeder spinning to the side so abruptly that one of the guards was flung over the edge with a shriek — and kept falling.

They had driven straight to the edge of a fissure that stretched at least twenty feet across. The driver screeched and clutched at the steering yoke, trying to wrest control from Anakin. The speeder spun again, skidding toward the dropoff, as the detonator struck the side of the vehicle in a burst of flame.


	4. Chapter Four

Obi-Wan jumped. He launched himself out over the cliff's edge as a fireball engulfed the speeder. Something slammed into him in midair, like the slap of an enormous hand swatting him out of the sky, and his leap turned into a fall. He tucked and rolled as the landscape whirled dizzyingly around him. He landed hard enough to drive the breath out of him, but he was still rolling, tumbling down a steep incline of loose scree and pebbles. He reached for the Force and managed to bring himself partly upright, skidding down the slope on hands and knees instead of falling head over heels.

Finally he slid to a stop at the bottom. He knelt there, panting for breath, his head spinning and his back aching from the midair impact and the fall. He was still gripping his lightsaber in one hand. His knuckles were scraped and bloodied, but he seemed, remarkably, to be in one piece. The Force had guided him. Unlike the guard who had fallen out of the speeder; he lay unmoving, his neck broken and his glittering eyes staring sightlessly at the sky.

A few yards away, Anakin rolled down the slope and crashed to a stop, surrounded by dust and loose stones. Obi-Wan let out a breath of relief. He thought he'd seen Anakin jump free of the speeder, but he hadn't had time to check. Obi-Wan scrambled to his feet with a grunt of effort and scrambled toward his Padawan. "Anakin?"

Anakin groaned.

"Anakin! Are you all right?" Obi-Wan crouched beside him, then relaxed as he saw the boy's eyes blink open. "Are you hurt?" he asked in a calmer voice.

"I — don't think so." Anakin took a slow, careful breath and shut his eyes, assessing his body in the Force like Obi-Wan had taught him. After a moment he shook his head. "Just bruised." He sat up with a wince. "And a little humiliated. I should have been able to jump clear."

"You're not the only one sitting here covered in bruises," said Obi-Wan ruefully. His back was starting to hurt in earnest as the rush of adrenaline wore off. "Even the Force can only increase human reflexes so much." He straightened with a wince and offered Anakin a hand to stand up. Anakin's mechanical fingers were pleasantly cool against Obi-Wan's scraped and stinging palm.

Obi-Wan turned to look up at the burning wreckage at the top of the cliff. "I don't suppose we'll be able to salvage that speeder's comm system."

"I — don't think so, Master." There was an odd tone to Anakin's voice, suddenly tense and uncertain.

Obi-Wan glanced at him. "What's wrong?"

"The comm unit. There's a piece of it sticking out of your back."

"Ah. Well, if it's in pieces, I don't suppose even you can get it working," Obi-Wan said lightly, to counter the growing intensity of Anakin's worry battering at him through the Force. He'd been too concerned about Anakin's well-being to assess his own state properly; a foolish mistake. He resisted his body's immediate urge to tense and deliberately relaxed instead, taking a slow breath. He felt battered and sore all over; the systemic pain had prevented him from noticing anything more specific. Now he felt it, though, a sharp pressure above his right shoulder blade, beginning to spark pain down his arm. He drew another slow breath, deeper this time, to confirm that the pain didn't reach into his chest; his lung wasn't damaged.

"Master?"

"I'm all right." Obi-Wan was still holding his lightsaber; he ignited it to light the crevasse with a ghostly blue glow. "Getting back up should be straightforward enough, assuming—"

Blaster fire darted down from the top of the cliff. Obi-Wan swung his blade up to deflect and caught a sharp breath as pain flared down his arm. Anakin leapt in, deflecting the next few bolts, then took a quick step back beside Obi-Wan as more shots blazed down toward them.

Obi-Wan quickly shifted his lightsaber to his left hand and joined Anakin's efforts to block the fire. "These Tyemi really don't want us here, do they?" he grunted. His eyes flicked up and along the edge of the cliff. It was too high to reach in a single leap; they would have to climb a steep slope of shifting rocks into blaster fire.

And worse than blaster fire. One of the Tyemi was lifting a familiar long shape to his shoulder. The detonation launcher. "Back!" shouted Obi-Wan. "Deeper into the canyon, quickly!"

They backed away, still deflecting fire. The crevice narrowed, then split. "Left," said Obi-Wan without pausing to think.

They threw themselves down the forking path just as the detonation launcher went off. Rock shattered overhead. Obi-Wan raced onward, pushing himself into a sprint. The ground shook underfoot, and stone thundered down behind them, crashing into the narrow crevice, sending chips flying and pebbles bouncing. Dust filled the air; Obi-Wan's eyes began watering from the grit, and he heard Anakin wheezing and coughing behind him.

The chaos stilled. The last few pieces of stone rattled to the ground behind them. Obi-Wan slowed and glanced over his shoulder, still holding his blade in his left hand to light the way. "Blocked," he muttered.

They both looked up. The walls here were sheer and smooth, not to mention deeper than the crack they'd first fallen into. They weren't going to have much luck trying to jump or climb from here. Overhead, the sky had gone from grey to black, and the first few stars appeared.

"It seems we press on," said Obi-Wan. He lifted his blade to illuminate the crack, and they started forward again.

"It's getting narrower," Anakin said.

"I can see that, Anakin."

"If we get stuck in here—"

"Trust the Force, Anakin. There's a way through." Obi-Wan was forced to turn sideways, inching his way through the tightening space. He deactivated his blade; the risk of cutting into the rock or nicking himself was greater than the comfort of light. Behind him, Anakin turned off his lightsaber as well. The darkness rushed in around Obi-Wan like a physical force pressing against his body, and for a moment he wondered if there really was a way forward. Had he just led them into a dead end?

No. He felt it. The Force flowed through him and past him, tugging him forward. He scrabbled his way deeper into the crack. For a moment he jammed in place, his back and chest pressed against the rock walls. Obi-Wan exhaled to narrow his rib cage and forced his way onward. Pain lanced through his shoulder as the shrapnel in his back scraped along the wall. He gritted his teeth, inched onward—

And suddenly he was free. He stumbled out into a wider space, gasping with relief. The walls still reached high and sheer to either side, but the crevice was wider here, and not quite so dark. Behind him, Anakin slid free with no sign of difficulty. The boy might be taller and stronger than Obi-Wan, but he still had a thinner frame.

"I don't think they're following," Anakin panted.

Obi-Wan nodded. "With any luck, they believe that blast killed us." He gave Anakin a worried look. "None of those falling stones hit you, did they?"

"Nothing big enough to hurt," Anakin said. There was a fresh cut on the bridge of his nose; he wiped it with his hand, smearing sweat, dirt, and blood across his cheek. "You should sit down, Master. Let me look at that."

Obi-Wan glanced back toward the collapsed crevice, then nodded slowly. They were safe for the moment; they might as well rest before looking for a way out. He sank down on a nearby rock, trying not to wince.

"I told you I had a bad feeling about this mission." Anakin said as he stepped up behind Obi-Wan. His flesh hand pressed flat against the middle of Obi-Wan's back. "This doesn't look too bad. It doesn't feel deep, and it's not bleeding much. I should probably just leave it for a proper medic to deal with."

"I can't raise my arm properly with that blasted chunk of metal pressing against my shoulder blade," Obi-Wan said. "Pull it out."

"But Master, you taught me not to remove a penetrating object in the field unless necessary. It can make things worse, especially bleeding, and—"

"And you pick now, of all times, to listen to what I taught you?" Obi-Wan said wryly. "That bad feeling you mentioned, is it gone?"

Anakin was silent for a moment, then said, "No. I still feel — something wrong."

"Something that may require the use of a lightsaber?"

"I don't know."

"Neither do I. I'd like the use of both arms, just in case."

"Yes, Master." Anakin's hand shifted, pushing Obi-Wan's hood out of the way. "This might hurt, Master."

"Might?"

Anakin muttered something under his breath. His mechanical fingers brushed the shrapnel, and Obi-Wan resisted the urge to tense his muscles. Anakin took a firm grip, sending a hot twinge of pain through Obi-Wan's back. He caught a sharp breath, and Anakin pulled his hand away. "Master, I—"

"I'm all right, Anakin."

"It's not that." Servos whirred as Anakin flexed his hand. "It's this. I'm still learning how to use it. Holding a lightsaber is one thing, but something this delicate — I'm afraid I'll hurt you."

Obi-Wan hadn't realized the hand took so much getting used to. Anakin had gone back to his usual training almost at once; if anything, he seemed stronger and more dextrous than ever. But if Anakin didn't feel he could do this, Obi-Wan wasn't about to argue. "Use the Force," he instructed. "A focused pull. I'd do it myself, but I'm afraid I might lose concentration."

"Yes, Master." Anakin drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. Obi-Wan felt him trying to calm himself. The boy had great strength, but not much finesse; he needed all the calmness and focus he could muster.

Obi-Wan shut his eyes and took a deep breath of his own. He felt Anakin center himself and reach out, so he was expecting the sharp pain as the shrapnel shifted. He clenched his teeth and sat perfectly still as the jagged piece of metal pulled free. It grated sickening against the edge of his shoulder blade, sending darts of pain down his arm and across his back. Threads of his tunic and cloak snapped and tore, and then he heard the click of metal against metal as Anakin caught the fragment of the speeder.

Obi-Wan let out the breath he'd been holding. He was starting to bleed in earnest; he felt it trickling down his back. "Well done," he said shakily. He pulled his cloak off his shoulders, then started fumbling at his belt and tunic one-handed. He didn't feel much inclined to move his right arm at the moment, but he managed to get the tunic down off his shoulders. "Patch this up, and we'll get moving again."

They both carried emergency medpacks on their belts; Anakin pulled out a coagulant patch and stuck it to the back of Obi-Wan's shoulder. It stung, but he felt the bleeding slow to a sluggish drip almost at once. "You haven't mentioned trouble with motor control," Obi-Wan said.

"It's not much," Anakin said quickly. "Just — fine-tuning, that's all." He hesitated, then added sheepishly, "I rebuilt the central motivator last week."

"You did what?" Obi-Wan turned to give him an incredulous look. "Anakin, that's extremely specialized medical technology. It's not a collection of spare parts for you to tinker around with."

"I built a droid from scrap when I was nine," Anakin said defensively. "A droid sophisticated enough that Padme trusts him with senatorial business."

"Well, yes, but that's hardly the same—"

"It's almost exactly the same. Actually, some of 3PO's systems are better than these. Or they were until last week."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "I suppose there's no stopping you."

"Never, Master. This should have stopped bleeding by now." Anakin peeled away the coagulant patch and replaced it with a bacta patch.

Obi-Wan relaxed as the cool, soothing gel took the edge off the pain. He stood up and moved his arm cautiously. The torn muscles protested, but he was able to lift and rotate his arm. He'd be able to use his lightsaber if needed; that was all he could ask at present. "Let's keep moving," he said.


	5. Chapter Five

They walked along the bottom of the narrow, winding crevice for what felt like hours. Obi-Wan’s aches and bruises throbbed in time with his heartbeat, and jolts of pain ran down his arm and across his back every time stumbled or moved too abruptly. He tried to let go of the physical sensations and move his focus outside of himself. He’d endured worse; he knew better than to let discomfort distract him.

The moon rose and gave them some light, but the temperature dropped sharply as the night wore on. At least there was no wind down here; it whined above the network of cracks and crevices but rarely dipped below the surface. Still, Obi-Wan found himself shivering. He pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders and looked up for the thousandth time, hoping to see a lower place in the canyon walls where they could jump up, or a broken wall where they could climb. On the other hand, if they made it out of the canyons, they’d have to spend the night in the open, with that bitter wind howling around them.

He glanced over at Anakin, who trudged along with his head lowered and his arms crossed. “Cold?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Not really.”

“After growing up somewhere as hot as Tatooine—”

“We’ve been through this, Master. Deserts get cold at night. Far colder than this.”

“Ah, yes.” He frowned. There was something wrong about the way Anakin had his arms crossed. His right fist was clenched, and his left hand gripped his right arm above the elbow. “Anakin, are you sure none of those rocks hit you?”

He gave Obi-Wan a surprised look. “I wouldn’t lie about that.”

No, he wouldn’t. “You’re holding your arm.”

Anakin glanced down, then uncrossed his arms. “It’s just cold.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “You said you weren’t cold.”

“I’m not; my arm is.” Anakin lifted his hand and flexed the skeletal fingers. “The metal’s getting cold. It’s — a strange feeling, that’s all.”

“Does it — bother you?” Obi-Wan asked cautiously. Anakin was always such a tangle of emotions that it was difficult to sort out his true feelings on a matter. It had been weeks since they returned to duty, but they had only mentioned the duel with Dooku in passing; they hadn’t really spoken about it.

“It’s a little uncomfortable, but—” He gave Obi-Wan a sidelong look. “You’re not talking about the temperature differential.” Anakin held out his hand with the fingers splayed. They shone in the moonlight. “It’s different, but I kind of like it. I mean, I wish it hadn’t happened, but you’re always talking about accepting the path laid out for us by the Force. This is part of who I am now, right?”

Obi-Wan felt a sudden surge of pride in his Padawan. The boy was maturing. Often Obi-Wan felt as if his teaching had failed. Anakin remained headstrong, volatile, and reckless — but he  _ was  _ growing and learning. He might never share Obi-Wan’s patient, thoughtful approach to problems, but many Jedi didn’t. Anakin was a protector, not a negotiator; that was part of who he was, just as much as his new arm.

“Does it bother  _ you _ , Master?” Anakin asked.

Obi-Wan glanced sharply at him. “Of course not.” That was an outright lie. Oh, it wasn’t the mechanical hand itself that bothered him. It was the nagging sense of guilt and — yes, fear. If he had managed to curb Anakin’s impatience and recklessness, they would have fought together against Dooku. They might have triumphed; they might have been able to end the war before it truly began. Or if Obi-Wan had managed to get back up and rejoin the fight—

He truly hadn’t left that duel in the past, had he? Obi-Wan only had to think about it to bring the sensations flooding back. The weight of evil in that hangar had crushed him down; the Dark Side had been a tangible pressure slowing his movements and dulling his senses. He had struggled to parry each blow from Dooku’s lightsaber, until finally he missed his parries altogether. He remembered lying there on the floor, his arm and leg both slashed to the bone, his body tensed with agony — and for long minutes, he’d failed to reach the Force. He’d barely had the strength to summon his lightsaber to his hand and toss it to Anakin. He’d been unable to suppress his pain, unable to move or speak. When Dooku tried to kill him with a toppled pillar, he’d simply stared up stupidly at it, unable to react at all. It wasn’t until Dooku was gone that Obi-Wan had finally broken through the paralyzing fog to force himself to his feet.

That was the darkness unleashed upon the galaxy. Not merely an army of Separatists, but a weight of evil that could literally freeze Obi-Wan in place and rob him of his faculties. He’d had his chance to stop it, and he’d failed. And now the Force only knew what horrors this war would bring as a result. That was what flashed through his mind every time he looked at Anakin’s robotic hand.

It seemed he had a great deal to meditate on.

“Master?”

Obi-Wan looked up sharply. This was neither the time nor the place to lose himself in thoughts about the war. Past and future belonged to the Force; his mind belonged in the present. 

He focused on their surroundings again. His feet ached from walking. His shoulder was throbbing harder than ever despite the soothing bacta patch. But more importantly, they had reached another split in the canyon. Two paths led forward, both equally narrow and steep-sided so far as Obi-Wan could tell. “Hm,” he said.

“I think this one leads back toward the city,” said Anakin, pointing to the left-hand passage.

“Perhaps.” Obi-Wan glanced from one path to the other. Something drew him toward the right side. He leaned his good hand against the stone wall, peering down the black passageway ahead. It appeared to lead in the same direction they’d been travelling, parallel to the contested border; not the best choice, unless—

He realized that he felt patterns on the wall under his hand. He pulled out his lightsaber and ignited it, holding it close to make out the shapes carved into the stone.

“What is that?” asked Anakin as he stepped over. “Is that writing?”

“It’s the Kyzari language,” Obi-Wan confirmed.

“You can’t read it, can you?”

“Not as such.” Obi-Wan frowned at the letters. “Though I did look at samples of Kyzari text as part of my mission research. They use a simple phonetic system, only twenty-three characters. Let’s see. . .” He closed his eyes and relaxed into the Force, searching for the knowledge buried in his memories. The image of the alphabet chart swam toward the surface of his mind. He couldn’t recall it all, but he only needed a few letters. . .

“Ty,” he said slowly, tracing the carved shapes with his fingers. “Zar...ith.”

“Tyzarith?” repeated Anakin. “What does that mean?”

“It’s a name,” said Obi-Wan. “Have you walked the path of Tyzarith who proves you worthy of speaking in the council?”

“What?”

“One of the questions City-Lord Hyaz asked when we arrived. I’m not sure who or what Tyzarith is, but if this is the path of Tyzarith. . .”

“You want us to go that way, don’t you?”

“It seems we’ve been given an opportunity. Perhaps walking this path will prove to the the Tyemi tribes that we deserve a chance to mediate their conflict.”

Anakin sighed. “As long as it doesn’t take us too far from civilization. One night out here is enough for me.”

“I’ve never understood your dislike for open land. You grew up in a desert; you should be more at home among rocks and fields than a Coruscanti like me.”

Anakin made a dismissive sound. “I grew up in a desert; I’ve had enough rocks and empty wastelands to last me a lifetime.” He ignited his lightsaber as well, adding its light to the blue glow from Obi-Wan’s blade, then turned down the right-hand path. “All right, let’s see what Tyzarith has in store for us.”

At first, the path looked no different from the crevice they’d been following before. But after a few minutes, Obi-Wan noticed carvings on the walls. “More text,” he said, angling his blade in that direction.

“You’re not going to try deciphering it, are you?”

“I wouldn’t know where to start.” Even if he could spell out the words on the walls, he wouldn’t be able to translate. Still, he had a feeling these texts were important. This place felt meaningful, layered with history that Obi-Wan could almost glimpse. He turned, looking around, and paused. “Anakin, stop for a moment.”

“What is it?”

“Just beside you, on the ground.”

He glanced down without much interest. “Carvings.”

“Doesn’t the shape remind you of anything?”

Anakin shrugged. “It’s a circle.”

“It’s a meditation circle,” said Obi-Wan. The designs around the edges reminded him of some of the meditation areas in the Temple gardens. More Kyzari text marched around the inner rim of the circle, as well. “Move over.”

Anakin stepped aside. “Master, if you need a rest, you don’t need to come up with an excuse.”

Obi-Wan ignored the comment and settled cross-legged in the middle of the circle, returning his lightsaber to his belt. The stone chilled his skin even through the layers of his pants, tunic, and cloak. He shut his eyes and relaxed into a light meditative state. It did feel good to sit down for a few minutes. He opened himself to the Force and let his mind drift. He moved past the aches and pains of his battered body, past the current of impatience swirling around Anakin, down the dark path toward whatever destination awaited them. Around him, he felt the ghostly imprints of other minds, other sentients who had walked this path before them. They had come here to learn about themselves, to prepare themselves for the responsibilities of leadership.

The impression faded, and Obi-Wan opened his eyes. “We’re in the right place,” he said.

“It doesn’t feel like the right place to me.”

“Nevertheless.” Obi-Wan pushed himself to his feet with a grunt of pain. The ground seemed to have leached out whatever warmth he had left; he folded his arms deeper into his sleeves and tried not to shiver too obviously. “Shall we continue?”

The carvings and texts continued along the walls. They came to another meditation circle, and Obi-Wan sat down again, eliciting a sigh from Anakin. “Master, you can meditate later. Right now we need to get out of here.”

“I’m not sure we do.” Obi-Wan shut his eyes and relaxed. “Sit with me, Anakin. Be mindful of the Force. Let it guide you to the answers we seek.”

“We’re  _ seeking  _ a way  _ out!”  _ said Anakin.

“Sit down, Anakin.”

“Yes, Master.” He dropped into a cross-legged position facing Obi-Wan across the middle of the circle.

Again, Obi-Wan let himself drift on the currents of the Force, not searching, simply listening. Cold and pain faded to the back of his awareness while his consciousness flowed onward, down the narrow crevice, up a slope, into the open air, toward — what?

“Master, do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” he murmured.

“That.”

Obi-Wan pulled himself back to the here and now, opened his eyes, and listened. It was hard to be sure over the whining of the wind overhead, but he thought he made out an irregular scratching noise. “A branch scraping against the stones?” he suggested hopefully.

“Or claws,” said Anakin.

“Yes, I’m afraid you may be right.” Obi-Wan rose stiffly. Beside him, Anakin leapt up and ignited his lightsaber. As always, he took an aggressive stance, ready to attack at an instant’s notice. Obi-Wan dropped his own weapon into his hand as well but held it low and to the side, guarded but not threatening.

A shadow crossed the star-speckled stripe of sky overhead. Obi-Wan glanced up, but there was nothing visible. He turned cautiously, then beckoned Anakin to continue walking. They moved slowly onward, silent, listening for danger.

“Master, behind you!” Anakin turned suddenly, lunging past Obi-Wan, and his blade threw sparks as it raked across scaly hide. Something hissed and recoiled. Shadows writhed and leapt, and the light of their sabers reflected from eyes in the darkness. The eyes rose on a long neck, rose higher, arced overhead to look down at them.

“We can take it,” said Anakin.

“There’s not enough space to fight,” said Obi-Wan. The crack they walked through was barely three feet wide here, too narrow to dodge or swing a sword properly.

A second pair of eyes flashed yellow in the shadows. A third pair glinted from halfway up the canyon wall.

“Uh — run?” said Anakin.

“Run!” agreed Obi-Wan.


	6. Chapter Six

They pelted along the narrow, twisting path with the hissing snarls following close behind. Obi-Wan’s breath came in short, ragged gasps, and he found himself pressing his right arm tight against his chest, trying to ease the shocks of pain that shot through his back and shoulder with every stride. Even with the Force to sustain him, bruised and exhausted muscles could only handle so much. He was slowing down.

The canyon widened suddenly. “Here!” gasped Obi-Wan, stumbling to a halt and spinning around with his lightsaber raised. Anakin leapt past him with an eager shout and struck at the nearest of the creatures chasing them. It howled as his blade severed one of the horns jutting from its face.

The second creature bounded over Anakin’s head to descend on Obi-Wan. He dodged to the side, and the monster slammed down where he’d been standing. Its body wasn’t more than two meters long, but its neck was equally long, and it reared up and darted its head toward Obi-Wan from above. 

Jaws snapped inches from his face as he dodged again, then caught the creature’s head with the Force and flung it sideways. The monster’s face slammed against the wall of the canyon. For an instant, it couldn’t come at him. Obi-Wan swung quickly, shearing through one of the hind legs, and the monster screamed and thrashed, half-collapsing as it struck back against at the source of its pain.

It was faster than Obi-Wan expected; a claw nicked his forehead, slicing a line of fire above his eyebrow, before he swept his blade up and severed the talons. The creature screamed again, and Obi-Wan seized the chance to dart in close and thrust into the exposed chest.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Anakin shear the second attacker’s head from its whippy neck. The monster collapsed, leaving only—

“Above you!”

The third pair of glowing eyes dropped toward Anakin. He whirled, raising his blade, but a flailing claw struck his arm, knocking the lightsaber from his hand as the monster dropped onto him. He fell and rolled away from the scything talons, raising his hand to fend off the jaws that darted down toward his face.

Obi-Wan thrust aside the falling monster, whipping his lightsaber free of its body, and leapt toward Anakin as teeth closed on his arm. He yelled, sounding more angry than hurt, and seized the monster’s jaws with his free hand.

And the monster’s skull shattered. The Force struck in a sudden violent surge, and the animal dropped dead, sprawled across Anakin’s chest. Dark blood spattered the ground and dripped onto Anakin. He grunted and wrenched at his arm, trying to free it from the creature’s mouth.

“I’ve got it,” said Obi-Wan. He stretched his hand toward the dead animal, wrapping it in the Force, and slowly lifted it away from Anakin. The Padawan freed his arm with the sound of ripping cloth and scrambled backward as Obi-Wan let the weight of the creature drop back to the ground.

Obi-Wan released the Force and staggered suddenly, breathing hard. Spasms of pain shot through the torn muscles in his back, and his grip on his lightsaber loosened involuntarily. He clumsily returned it to his belt and sank to his knees beside Anakin. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” Anakin grunted. He was gripping his arm again, and his face had gone pale. “It just got a mouthful of metal.”

“You’re bleeding.”

“It’s that thing’s blood.”

“I don’t think so.” Anakin was certainly spattered with the creature’s dark ichor, but there was also a spot of brighter human blood on his sleeve. “Let me see.”

“I’m fine,” he said again, but he ripped away the tattered remains of his sleeve to show Obi-Wan the damage. His hand was shaking. “I just need to—” He grimaced and clenched his mechanical fingers suddenly. “Just need to turn down the sensitivity for a while,” he finished in a strained voice.

The prosthetic was partly crushed at the elbow, with torn wires sparking and a broken connection point slicing into Anakin’s skin where metal met flesh. Anakin fumbled at the access port on the back of his wrist, then let out a breath of relief and relaxed visibly. “I’m fine,” he said a third time. This time it sounded more believable. “I just had the touch receptors turned up too high, that’s all.”

“Tinkering,” Obi-Wan muttered. “Well, maybe you can turn off your nerves at will, but you’re still bleeding. Let’s have a look.”

Anakin rolled his eyes but let Obi-Wan examine the damaged connection. The core of the mechanical arm was fused into Anakin’s body, but an outer layer of smooth metal surrounded the core and covered the sensitive connection point; it was a piece of the casing that had cracked and driven into his arm. “I think I’ll have to remove a piece of this outer skin,” Obi-Wan said.

Anakin twisted his neck, trying to see the back of his arm. “It’s fine, Master. I’ll fix it properly later.”

“I don’t like how much you’re bleeding, Anakin. This piece is nearly broken free anyway. I need to get it out of the way to stop this bleeding.” He hesitated. “Unless removing it will cause more problems?” He felt comfortable with ordinary first aid, but he wasn’t entirely sure how Anakin’s cybernetics interacted with the rest of his body. A dangerous oversight; he’d need to study the topic as soon as possible.

“It’ll loosen the whole casing,” Anakin said. “And it’ll expose the core. I don’t like the idea of leaving it open like that.”

“I’ll wrap it for protection,” Obi-Wan said. “Now hold still.” He carefully slid a finger under the edge of the damaged casing. Anakin tensed and drew a hissing breath between his teeth; clearly he was still in some pain despite the adjustments he’d made to his arm. Blood slicked Obi-Wan’s hand as he took a careful grip on the broken segment and bent it back, prying the jagged edge free of Anakin’s arm. The metal didn’t snap free as he’d expected, but Obi-Wan managed to fold it back so it lay against the undamaged portion, with no rough edges against Anakin’s skin.

He reached into his medpack and pressed an anticoagulant patch to the wound. Blood continued seeping out around the edges of the patch, but more slowly. “Is the core damaged?” Anakin asked, craning his neck again. “The central wires. Here.” He ignited his lightsaber and held it to the side so Obi-Wan could see more clearly.

“It looks intact,” said Obi-Wan quietly. Inside the casing, the wires and struts of the core melded unsettlingly into the scarred stump of Anakin’s arm. There was a wrongness about it. Obi-Wan shivered, thinking again about their duel against Dooku. The wrongness was only in his mind. He was letting his emotions change his perceptions. Where he should be marvelling at the advancements of medical technology, he could only think about the crushing darkness of Dooku’s presence, and about his own failures to teach, to protect, and to resist the power of the Dark Side.

“Has that stopped bleeding yet?” Anakin asked. “My butt’s freezing.”

“Ah — yes, it’s looking better.” Obi-Wan removed the coagulant patch and placed a bacta patch before picking up the shredded sleeve Anakin had discarded. “I’ll just make sure nothing comes loose.” He wrapped the connection point carefully, making sure the casing was securely bound in place and the exposed section hidden. “There.”

Anakin stood up and moved his arm experimentally. Another spark jumped from one of the torn wires, and his smallest finger didn’t straighten when he tried to spread his hand, but he shrugged. “I was waiting for an excuse to redo some of this wiring, anyway,” he said. “Maybe I should get a durasteel casing for the whole thing, too. Might be too heavy, though. But if I upgraded the motors to handle the extra weight—”

Obi-Wan chuckled tiredly and shook his head. “Later, Padawan. We have more pressing concerns.” He looked down the dark crevice that still stretched ahead of them. “We have somewhere to be.”

“You say that like you know where this canyon leads.”

“Not exactly where.” Obi-Wan blinked as blood dripped into his eye; he’d forgotten about the cut on his forehead. He wiped it with his sleeve — the tunic was thoroughly ruined anyway — and took a deep breath. “But we don’t have much time left if we’re to complete our mission.”

“Master, the Tyemi tried to kill us. They’re not going to change their minds and agree to mediation just because we’ve walked this path of Tyzarith.”

“We shall see.” Obi-Wan leaned his good hand hand on the canyon wall and heaved himself painfully to his feet. He had to pause there for a moment, teeth clenched against the rush of pain that swept through his shoulder and down his arm. He thought he felt blood trickling down his back again; he’d probably further damaged the muscles, leaping about and swinging his lightsaber. He took several slow breaths and released his pain to the Force. It didn’t really make the wound hurt any less, but it made the pain of one fragile mortal body among billions seem distant, unimportant.

“What about these things, Master?” said Anakin.

“What about them?” Obi-Wan looked down at the scaly corpses. They looked distinctly smaller now than they had while attempting to eat him.

“Well, these people respect strength, right? I doubt taking a walk and meditating on life will impress the Tyemi, but maybe killing these things will.”

“Hm,” said Obi-Wan. “Perhaps it will.” He raised an eyebrow at Anakin. “Are you volunteering to drag one of them along with us?”

“We don’t need the whole thing, Master. Just the heads.” Anakin flexed his hand again, then called his lightsaber to his hand and lopped off the head of the creature Obi-Wan had killed. He glanced toward the one with the crushed skull. “Two trophies should be enough.”

“I should say so.” Obi-Wan followed Anakin’s gaze. Anakin had done that with a thought. He had lashed out and shattered the monster’s head without effort or hesitation. It was a bit unsettling, to be honest. Anakin’s sheer strength in the Force, and the way he turned it so instinctively toward battle and violence—

But such were the times in which they lived. Obi-Wan had a feeling he, too, would learn to react to threats with crushing, unhesitating force in the months to come. It wasn’t a prospect he relished.

“Want to carry yours, Master?” asked Anakin, holding up one of the toothy heads.

“Not particularly,” said Obi-Wan, but he accepted the grisly trophy all the same, following Anakin’s example and tying it to his belt. His apprentice was right; the Tyemi would respect such a display of strength more than a thousand appeasing words.


End file.
